The Man of Feeling eBook

He pressed me in his arms, and kissed the marks of
the lashes on my back a thousand times; he led me
to a little hut, where some friend of his dwelt, and
after I was recovered of my wounds conducted me so
far on my journey himself, and sent another Indian
to guide me through the rest. When we parted
he pulled out a purse with two hundred pieces of gold
in it. ‘Take this,’ said he, ’my
dear preserver, it is all I have been able to procure.’

“I begged him not to bring himself to poverty
for my sake, who should probably have no need of it
long, but he insisted on my accepting it. He
embraced me. ‘You are an Englishman,’
said he, ’but the Great Spirit has given you
an Indian heart, may He bear up the weight of your
old age, and blunt the arrow that brings it rest!’

“We parted, and not long after I made shift
to get my passage to England. ’Tis but
about a week since I landed, and I am going to end
my days in the arms of my son. This sum may be
of use to him and his children, ’tis all the
value I put upon it. I thank Heaven I never
was covetous of wealth; I never had much, but was always
so happy as to be content with my little.”

When Edwards had ended his relation, Harley stood
a while looking at him in silence; at last he pressed
him in his arms, and when he had given vent to the
fulness of his heart by a shower of tears, “Edwards,”
said he, “let me hold thee to my bosom, let me
imprint the virtue of thy sufferings on my soul.
Come, my honoured veteran let me endeavour to soften
the last days of a life, worn out in the service of
humanity; call me also thy son, and let me cherish
thee as a father."’

Edwards, from whom the recollection of his own suffering
had scarced forced a tear, now blubbered like a boy;
he could not speak his gratitude, but by some short
exclamations of blessings upon Harley.

CHAPTER XXXV—­HE MISSES AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.—­AN ADVENTURE
CONSEQUENT UPON IT

When they had arrived within a little way of the village
they journeyed to, Harley stopped short, and looked
steadfastly on the mouldering walls of a ruined house
that stood on the road side. “Oh, heavens!”
he cried, “what do I see: silent, unroofed,
and desolate! Are all thy gay tenants gone?
do I hear their hum no more Edwards, look there, look
there? the scene of my infant joys, my earliest friendships,
laid waste and ruinous! That was the very school
where I was boarded when you were at South-hill; ’tis
but a twelve-month since I saw it standing, and its
benches filled with cherubs: that opposite side
of the road was the green on which they sported; see
it now ploughed up! I would have given fifty
times its value to have saved it from the sacrilege
of that plough.”

“Dear sir,” replied Edwards, “perhaps
they have left it from choice, and may have got another
spot as good.”